The Court has seen many things in its distinguished career, but the audacity of the "lift and push" maneuver executed not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES borders on criminal choreography. You knew that door was rotted, the seller KNEW that door was rotted, and yet there you were, waltzing through showings like some kind of basement door whisperer, hoping nobody would notice that the structural integrity of the entryway was held together by prayers and wood filler. The husband was not yanking on a door, counsel, he was yanking on YOUR WEB OF LIES, and when that handle assembly came out with a chunk of frame attached, what he was really holding was the physical manifestation of your professional negligence. Reginald himself once trusted a seller who said "don't worry about it" regarding a dishwasher, and The Court spent eleven months hand-washing plates like some kind of VICTORIAN SCULLERY MAID, so do not expect sympathy from this bench. You ate twelve hundred dollars and lost the buyers, but worse, you lost something that cannot be repaired with a contractor estimate: your claim to being someone who discloses things. The Court hereby sentences you to a lifetime of testing every door handle in every property with the paranoid vigor of a man who has been burned, because you HAVE been burned, and Reginald must now adjourn to speak with his gavel council about this matter privately.